


morse code

by divinerenjun



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Begging, Catboys & Catgirls, Comfort Sex, Exhibitionism, Finger Sucking, Frottage, Hybrids, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Self-Lubrication, Semi-Public Sex, a twist on thigh fucking, doyoung rips jenos shorts ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinerenjun/pseuds/divinerenjun
Summary: The elastic of Jeno's shorts is pure torture against his aching cock, Doyoung’s fingers fire materialized where they stuff both his holes full. He feels like he’s dying, like he’ll have to buried six-feet deep in this position: face-down, ass-up, frayed hole in his shorts leaving him exposed to the world.or: Jeno comes to him when it rains.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Jeno
Comments: 25
Kudos: 256





	morse code

**Author's Note:**

> its me, your residential catboy lover

Jeno comes to him when it rains.

Always, his knock on Doyoung’s door—one short knuckle rap, three gentle scratches with his claws: morse code, like a Bat Signal projecting the letter ‘J’ into the darkest corners of the 127 dorms—is accompanied by sheets of frigid water pounding against Doyoung’s window, rattling the eaves, _tap tap tapping_ out a rhythm that might, if either of them were to listen close enough, spell out Jeno’s name in totality. 

“Come in,” Doyoung always says, and Jeno always enters with his pretty tail wrapped tight around his pretty waist, pretty ears pressed tight to his pretty head, hands fiddling with the hem of a t-shirt that’s never his. 

Scared of the rain, who would have thought. 

It’s a cat’s natural instinct: water is simply evil. 

Doyoung’s learned to expect it. He clears out his schedule when there’s a storm in the forecast, starts cleaning his room at the first distant clap of thunder. When Jeno steps through the doorway today, he’s greeted with a pristine room, a lit candle— _clean cotton_ —and Doyoung lying in bed, book in hand. 

“Hi, Jeno,” he says, voice deep and rough from an hour of silent reading. 

All he gets is a shy little “Hi” in response, Jeno tucking his chin to his chest and moving his hands to play with the end of his tail. Doyoung smiles, puts his book down, and reaches out his arms.

In an instant, Jeno is next to him on the bed, one leg slotted between Doyoung’s own, hugging him tight around the middle. His face is smushed up against Doyoung’s chest, and when Doyoung looks down at the top of his head, his soft ears tickle his chin. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s just a little storm. It’ll be gone by the morning, I promise.” Doyoung checked the radar—he’ll be surprised if it’s still raining in an hour. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Jeno sits back, and Doyoung’s hands fall to his hips. There’s pink dusting Jeno’s pale cheekbones: even after all this time, he still gets embarrassed. 

An untimely lightning bolt illuminates Doyoung’s room in harsh blue-white, and the fur on Jeno’s tail bushes up, pointy ears pressing flat to his skull as he flinches. Doyoung grips him tighter, shifting to sit higher on the bed so their eyes are level. 

“Movie?” he repeats, and Jeno nods. Doyoung brings a hand up to rest on Jeno’s chest, right over his heart, and feels the stuttering rhythm calm as he blinks slowly at the hybrid. Jeno returns his blink with a hint of a smile, and Doyoung pushes down his instinct to surge forward and kiss him into a smiley mess, lest a sudden movement startle Jeno back into his frightened state.

“Here, or the couch?” Doyoung asks gently, thumbs rubbing circles into Jeno’s hip.

“Couch,” Jeno mumbles, giving him a pretty look with those pretty eyes, and Doyoung nearly forgets that Jeno weighs just as much as he does, has to bite back the offer to carry him into the living room. 

They settle on the couch, Jeno between Doyoung’s legs and leaning back against his front, Doyoung’s laptop perched on a pillow on Jeno’s knees. A tall glass of water sits on the end table: Doyoung’s foresight. Jeno always gets thirsty during these little comfort sessions. 

Jeno presses play, and Doyoung rests his chin briefly on Jeno’s shoulder. The proximity to Jeno’s shirt is enough to grant him a small bit of insight: “Jungwoo,” Doyoung declares, no hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Jeno turns his head a little bit, giving Doyoung a look from the corner of his eye. He blushes again, and gives a sheepish little smile, nodding. Doyoung nods in response, and pulls his head away, the scent of Jeno’s borrowed shirt fading from his nose—but not his mind.

He tightens his arms around Jeno’s waist. 

They make it through about five minutes of the film when thunder shakes the entire building. It rattles the dishes in the kitchen cupboards and reverberates down the hallway and makes Jeno jump in Doyoung’s hold. 

He whimpers, just a tiny little thing, and twists around to press his cheek against Doyoung’s chest. Doyoung barely reaches out in time to stop his laptop from falling off the couch. 

“Hey, Jeno, it’s okay,” he reassures, setting the computer down gently on the floor and hitting pause. “It’s just thunder, right? It can’t hurt you. I know it’s scary,” he rushes to add when Jeno glances up to give him an unimpressed look, “but I’m here, and it’s out there, and you’re safe.”

He pets through Jeno’s hair, scratching gently behind his ears, until Jeno relaxes in his arms. 

“Good boy,” Doyoung mutters, and he can feel Jeno smile. “Wanna keep watching?” 

“Yes please.”

Doyoung sets the laptop back up, and they continue, Doyoung’s fingers still carding gently through Jeno’s hair. 

Two minutes later, the thunder returns, and this time, it doesn’t stop. Nearly constant booming claps ring through the fifth-floor apartment, accompanied by violent flashes of lightning that manage to shine through the closed blinds. 

At first, Jeno tries to pretend he’s not scared, raising his chin and physically swallowing every noise of fear that jumps to his throat. Doyoung makes his presence as known as he can, rubbing gently up and down the length of Jeno’s arm and continuing to give attention to his pretty gray ears, but after the third minute or so Jeno is literally shaking in his arms, tail resembling a puffy white pipe cleaner where it’s curled tight around Doyoung’s thigh. 

Doyoung lets out a gentle sigh. Clearly, the movie distraction is not going to be enough to weather the thick of this storm.

It often comes to this. Fear can make for a wonderful aphrodisiac. 

He’s not sure he should even be surprised. Jeno comes to him, gentle and frightened, and they try to pretend a digital distraction will suffice. By the time Jeno’s quivering like a leaf in autumn’s wind they both know what comes next.

Doyoung sighs again and watches Jeno’s ear twitch at the puff of hot air. He shifts a little bit, adjusting his own weight and that of Jeno in his lap, then slips his fingers up under the hem of Jeno’s shirt. 

Jeno’s ears perk up, flicking to face backwards. His eyes remain glued to the laptop screen, but Doyoung knows he has the catboy’s full attention.

He takes it slow, ghosting his fingertips across the dips and planes of Jeno’s abdomen, tracing his thumbnail along the cut of his v-line. His other hand falls to the side of Jeno’s neck, just resting there, a solid warmth. 

Jeno’s tail clenches tighter around his thigh. Doyoung bends his knees, effectively caging Jeno in between his legs, and slides his hand further up Jeno’s torso.

“Hyung,” Jeno whimpers, and Doyoung smirks, nosing at the back of Jeno’s neck as his fingers dance against Jeno’s nipples. 

The storm grumbles on, and Doyoung persists, watching the tense line of Jeno’s jaw soften under his ministrations. After a few minutes, he feels something damp against his crotch, and smiles. Mission successful.

𓃠 

Jeno is in hell. And heaven. And everywhere in between. He feels a little bit floaty, gaze distant and hyper focused all at once. The pixels on the screen have all blurred together, just a vague, colorful blob of movement that his brain is no longer equipped to interpret.

All he can process are Doyoung’s warm palms, slender fingers playing across his chest, gentle fingertips toying with his nipples. 

His flimsy track shorts are soaked through with his slick already. He started leaking the moment he settled between Doyoung’s legs on the couch, his biology’s hopeful anticipation somehow outweighing his psychological fear of the storm.

One of Doyoung’s hands inches down his chest and fiddles with the band of his shorts. His hips shift, his ears twitch, and his tail loosens its grip on Doyoung’s leg. 

He hears himself let out an inquisitive little ‘mrrow?’ and blushes at how easily he gets riled up. Not _his_ fault Doyoung has hands like magic, like liquid gold as they slide across his skin.

Doyoung laughs, and pulls Jeno’s shorts down snug under his balls in a quick motion. Jeno flushes hotter and gasps at the sudden exposure. His cock rests against his thigh, not yet hard, and Doyoung reaches to fit two fingers just under the crown of it, squeezing Jeno tight.

Jeno whines, and grips both of Doyoung’s thighs, releases his claws to pierce through Doyoung’s sweatpants, and feels Doyoung’s cock twitch against his back. 

Doyoung doesn’t move, just holds Jeno’s dick in the crook of his fingers until he fills out completely, heavy and thick. Jeno whines the whole time, then finally has the sense to lean forward and pause the film, setting both the laptop and the pillow aside to better watch as Doyoung starts sliding his hand down the length of him. 

“You have such a nice cock, kitten,” Doyoung compliments, and the praise makes Jeno bite his lip. “It’s pretty: fitting for such a pretty kitty.” At this, Jeno’s chest grows warm, and his tail wraps around his waist, bashful. 

Doyoung strokes him gently, like they have all the time in the world, like Jeno doesn’t have his cock out in the middle of the 127 fifth-floor dorm. Like he isn’t affected by this, like the power he has over Jeno means nothing to him.

Jeno whimpers. 

Doyoung fondles his balls, presses the pad of a finger to the delicate skin of his perineum, and Jeno lets out a stuttered purr, cock pulsing. 

They go like this for minutes, time stretching out into sweet sweet molasses around them. Jeno’s dripping sweat and absolutely spaced out when a low murmur in his ear calls him back to the present. 

“Listen, baby.” Jeno strains his ears but can’t pick up any odd noises.

“What?” His breath stutters. Doyoung gives a gentle nip to the delicate skin at the nape of his neck.

“The storm’s over.” 

Jeno’s ears perk up. Sure enough, no more raindrops patter against the windows, no thunder shakes the walls. In his distracted state, he didn’t even notice. He sighs, content, then whines and shifts around at Doyoung’s next statement.

“Guess you don’t need me to distract you any longer, huh?” And with that, the hands on his skin, the breath stirring his hair, it all disappears. Doyoung retracts, and Jeno keens, cock jumping, slick pooling from his hole. “You’ll be fine now.”

He can feel the warm, solid outline of Doyoung’s erection pressing against the small of his back—the rational part of his brain knows that means Doyoung won’t really stay away for long, but the part of him that’s focused on chilly air breezing across his cockhead makes him let out a choked sob, tears springing to the corners of his eyes.

He stares, broken, at the way his dick throbs in the aftermath of Doyoung’s touch, at the way it flushes a deeper red at the absence of his fingers. The warmth that’s been licking through his stomach subsides somewhat, and he lets his head fall back on Doyoung’s shoulder.

Then, he starts to beg.

“Doyoung, please. Hyung please,” he whispers, heart pit-pattering in his chest. His tail unconsciously curls around Doyoung’s wrist, trying to tug his hand down to his aching hole. He can feel it clenching and unclenching, begging for pressure, drooling slick in anticipation. 

“Please touch me I need you to touch me.” His voice is stronger this time, and Doyoung lets out a little grunt that makes Jeno’s cock spurt. “I need you to touch me, need you to fill me up, need you to touch my cock, need you, hyung, please.”

His words pitch up at the end, throwing themselves into the furthest corners of the living room. He knows Johnny and Taeyong can hear him, knows they know exactly what’s going on, and the thought entices a whimper out of him, fingers digging into Doyoung’s thighs. 

Doyoung grinds gently against his back and fits his lips to the shell of Jeno’s ear again, his inhales loud as gunshots this close. 

“Show me,” he murmurs, and then his arm is mobile in the grip of Jeno’s tail, able to be pulled down, down, past where the waistband of Jeno’s shorts sits snug under his balls, past the sensitive skin between his dick and asshole, into the mess of liquid coating his underwear, thighs, dripping steadily between his cheeks. 

“Oh, fuck, Jeno.” It shouldn’t be a surprise any longer, how wet Jeno can get, but Doyoung always acts like it’s a miracle, like his self-lubrication is some fantastical superpower, like Jaehyun and Ten haven’t ruined their fair share of Doyoung’s bedsheets with their own slick. 

Jeno guides his hand even further, to the base of his tail. Doyoung wraps his pointer and middle fingers around the fluffy base of it, and Jeno sighs, releasing his grip. 

Doyoung pads gently around the seamless connection between Jeno’s human skin and feline tail, pressing into the delicious spot just below the base of it, and Jeno’s eyes roll back in his head. “Yeah,” he mutters, cheeks flushing. “Just like that.”

When Doyoung’s thumb starts teasing with his rim, Jeno presses his ears flat against his skull and can’t stop his hips from jolting forward.

“Yes,” he cries out, and Doyoung’s teeth meet at the sharp corner of his jaw. 

“Quiet, kitten,” and Jeno has to bite his lip hard to keep from moaning.

Then, Doyoung presses his thumb in, continuing to feel up the base of his tail, and he feels heat spark in his tummy. 

“Doyoung, hyung, hyung yes, fuck, yes, fuck me.” He barely even registers his own voice, broken and lilting as Doyoung’s long thumb slides in and out, easy as anything through Jeno’s wetness. Doyoung’s other hand moves to play with his nipples again, and Jeno arches his back, pressing his chest firmly against Doyoung’s fingertips with a groan. 

A wet spot builds against his spine, and he connects it to precum: Doyoung’s cock leaking through his sweats and through Jeno’s own shirt— _Jungwoo’s shirt_. Jeno thinks he’ll return it just like this: sweaty, wrinkled, sticky along the hem and lower back.

His own cock nearly _hurts,_ all the pressure building wonderfully and spiking up, up, like a chart with a jagged red line graphing his pleasure. He feels it dart off the edge of the page, feels his balls start to tighten and his ass clench and—

And then Doyoung’s thumb is out of him and slender fingers are tight around the base of Jeno’s cock, staving off his orgasm.

“Fuck,” Jeno whines. It’s loud, his brain no longer caring to filter his volume. Doyoung gives his nipple one last flick then pulls both of his hands away. Jeno mewls—fucking _mewls_ —and watches his sad cock leak the tiniest bit.

“Stop being so loud, kitten. I’ll start thinking you _want_ to get caught like this. Right on the edge, so pretty. I’ll start to think you like it like this, being denied.”

Jeno’s tail curls as he whimpers. They both know he does like it, does want it, is game for anything in this state. He can feel as Doyoung reaches between them to get himself off, jerking himself slowly through his sweatpants. Jeno whines and twists a little bit, aching to reach back and touch. 

“Hands and knees for me, kitten.”

In an instant, Jeno complies, shifting so his ass is in the air, tail floating lazily above his arched back. He hears Doyoung’s pretty voice curl around a curse, then warm hands are petting down the plumy line of his tail, smoothing out over his ass, pressing soft into his waist to make him arch further. His cock aches, hanging below him and leaking down onto the couch cushions. 

“You’re so wet.” Doyoung’s voice slips rougher than Jeno’s ever heard it, more a texture than a sound, and Jeno feels drops of slick drip past the hem of his shorts, down the taut expanse of his thighs. “So pretty like this, soaking, right on the edge.”

Jeno nods, head dropping to hang between his shoulders, and mumbles some sort of agreement, some prayer for _more._

Doyoung’s hands slide back to his ass, and then circle the base of his tail again. 

“Jeno,” he says, voice tilting up in a questioning manner. “Do you care much about these shorts?”

Well, _that’s_ an odd question. Jeno glances down at the fabric around his hips. He’s pretty sure he’s had these for ages, retired them to sleep short status years ago. He shakes his head, then clears his throat. “No, I don’t.”

He can hear Doyoung’s smile: “Good,” and then there are fingers slipping through the hole in the fabric for his tail, two each on opposite sides of the opening, and his shorts make a gritty sound as Doyoung rips the hole wider, exposing the cleft of his ass, the pink pucker of his hole. Jeno gasps and jolts forward, ears swiveling backwards.

“Mmm,” Doyoung moans. Jeno looks back over his shoulder to watch as he pulls out his cock, fisting it at the sight of Jeno bent over, exposed, wet. Jeno catches his bottom lip between his teeth and waves his tail slowly through the air, playing into the vulnerable picture he knows he makes in this state. 

It’s exhilarating. Doyoung admires every inch of his skin, eying up the long length of his legs, gaze lingering between his cheeks. The flow of the aircon cools the slick coating his ass, and he shivers, whining at the chill. 

Doyoung gives a little smile, then surges forward, pressing himself against Jeno’s back, arms caging him in. Jeno shrinks beneath him, letting out a surprised mewl at the sudden proximity. Doyoung’s tongue laves over the nape of his neck, and Jeno feels the hard line of his cock press in the cleft of his ass. 

“Hyung!” he exclaims, pressing back against the friction. Doyoung rolls his hips, sliding his cock between Jeno’s cheeks at a delicious pace. Jeno’s reduced to whimpers, a steady stream of noise falling from his lips. 

His slick makes the slide smooth, but the head of Doyoung’s dick catches against his rim on each backstroke. Jeno’s hips jerk each time, and one of these jerks sends him directly onto the tip of Doyoung’s cock. Just a half inch, and then Doyoung pulls out with a grunt, continuing his teasing, but it makes Jeno cry out, tears springing to the corner of his eyes, tail curling. He _wants_ , he wants Doyoung to fuck him, wants some kind of pressurized relief.

“Doyoung please,” he begs, canting back to try and make the same mistake again. “Please please please—”

And then there are fingers in his mouth: three thick digits forced past his lips to stifle his noises, even as they increase in volume in Jeno’s chest. Jeno tastes the salty sweet tang of his slick under Doyoung’s fingernails. 

“Be quiet. You’ll wake Taeyong hyung.” It’s a futile demand—Jeno’s noises have surely awoken the entire apartment building by now, but Jeno plays along nonetheless, ever the good boy. He nods, tongue prodding at Doyoung’s fingers, and his eyes close.

Doyoung shifts his position, straddling one of Jeno’s legs, cock hard against the side of Jeno’s thigh, and his free hand plays with the pucker of Jeno’s ass. Jeno’s cock hangs, ignored, between his legs. The band of his shorts has shifted to sit tight above his balls, doing Doyoung’s work for him as it keeps Jeno wound tight, so close to sweet, sweet relief, but so far at the same time. He moans around Doyoung’s fingers. 

There’s a tight pressure against his rim, and then Doyoung’s pushing two fingers in at once, rubbing circles up against Jeno’s velvety walls. Jeno cries out as best he can around the pacifying digits in his mouth, and feels drool drip down his chin. 

Doyoung works him slowly, as if he has all the time in the world, rutting his dick against Jeno’s leg in time with the scissoring and curling of his fingers. Jeno’s arms give out and his cheek smushes into the couch cushion. Jungwoo’s shirt rides up his back, pooling under his armpits and leaving the long length of his spine bare. His tail is waving like a white flag of surrender, and when Doyoung finally, _finally_ presses up against his aching prostate, he lets out a sigh that turns into a delicate, broken, strung-out purr, vibrating against the fingers on his tongue. He hears Doyoung let out an amused breath, pleasure lacing the timbre of his laugh. Precum dribbles out onto Jeno’s thigh. 

“Right there, baby? You like that?”

Jeno can tell Doyoung’s getting close—close just from the sight of him, just from putting his hands all over Jeno’s body, and Jeno keens, chest rumbling as his purring increases in volume. He squints his eyes open and sees his own cock, angry red, forgotten and jerking with each jolt of his hips. 

Doyoung adds a third finger in Jeno’s ass, and starts fucking him faster with them, speeding up the friction of his dick against Jeno’s thigh as well. Jeno’s tail is going fucking crazy, swirling around like it can’t decide whether to wrap around his own waist or grab Doyoung’s wrist or stuff itself into Doyoung’s mouth as some ill form of payback for the stretch of Jeno’s lips around Doyoung’s knuckles. 

“Jeno, baby, kitten,” Doyoung practically growls. Jeno whines in response, shaking his ass a little bit. “You’re so good for me, you know that? You’re so good, take my fingers so well, so wet—.” 

At this, Doyoung slips his fingers back out (punching a stifled moan from Jeno’s throat) and gathers some more of Jeno’s slick, pushing back in a moment later. Jeno feels some of the liquid spill out around Doyoung’s fingers, knows he’s full of it, wet and plush and open, all for Doyoung. 

“Bet you’d like it if Johnny came in right now, wouldn’t you?” Jeno’s cock spurts, a thin line of precum falling from its tip down to the couch. As he whines in acquiescence, he thinks distantly that they should have probably put a towel down. “Bet you’d get off on that, get even more wet, yeah? Leak everywhere if Haechannie walked through the door and saw you like this, stretched open on both ends, so good for hyung, yeah?”

Jeno nods as best he can. The elastic of his shorts is pure torture against his aching cock, Doyoung’s fingers fire materialized where they stuff both his holes full. He feels like he’s dying, like he’ll have to buried six-feet deep in this position: face-down, ass-up, frayed hole in his shorts leaving him exposed to the world. 

Doyoung’s thrusts are erratic at this point, cock jerking messy against Jeno’s thigh, but his fingers somehow maintain their rhythm, relentless in their pursuit of Jeno’s peak.

“Can you—fuck, Jeno, fuck—,” Doyoung’s hips jolt, “can you be quiet for me, kitten? Can I take my fingers out?”

Jeno isn’t really sure, but he nods anyway, eyes flying open to try and better convey his falsified sincerity. Doyoung pulls his hand from Jeno’s mouth, spit slick, and Jeno gasps, drool pooling from his lips. Doyoung brings his wet hand down to press his dick tight to Jeno’s thigh, and fucks the gap between his palm and Jeno’s taut muscle, groaning.

Jeno whimpers, hips circling desperately against the fingers still filling him up. Doyoung slides a fourth finger in easily on his next push inside, and Jeno’s back arches involuntarily, teeth clenching around a cry that he manages to suppress into a faint mewl. His tail brushes up the fine line of Doyoung’s arm, 

“Kitten, you can come, you know? You can come now, it’s okay, I’m so close—.” 

Jeno traces the curve of Doyoung’s jaw with the plume of his tail, and nearly cries in relief. 

“Doyoung,” he chokes out, voice rough from lack of use. “Hyung, please—my shorts—.” Jeno doesn’t trust his shaking arms to successfully pull the tight waistband off his cock. His hands are uselessly limp by his head.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Doyoung says, and just like that, the pressure is gone from the base of Jeno’s dick. Now, he does sob, tears dripping down his cheeks. His tail smooths across Doyoung’s collarbone in gratitude.

Doyoung fucks his fingers in one more time, pressing snug to Jeno’s prostate, and Jeno’s coming onto the couch with a moan that’s made of purrs and groans and a whisper of Doyoung’s name. Doyoung strokes him through it, thumb brushing over his cockhead, and Jeno’s tail bushes out with the stimulation, the bone-deep ache of release at long last.

Doyoung doesn’t let up the pressure deep within him. Jeno’s vision goes blurry around the edges and he has to bite back a sharp cry of pleasure as the aftershocks fade into a dull ache. 

“You’re so pretty, Jeno, such a pretty kitten, such a good kitten for me.” Doyoung’s words are slurred, and his free hand smacks down across Jeno’s ass, gripping tight and spreading him open as he continues to rut against Jeno’s leg. 

Jeno takes it all, purring stiltedly as Doyoung rubs little circles into his prostate, cock jumping even as it softens, until fingers tangle in his air, stroking across his fluffy ears, and Doyoung’s coming onto his thigh and ass and back with a groan.

Jeno’s tail trails across Doyoung’s chest, soft across his nipples as he orgasms, breath stuttering. 

“Fuck,” Doyoung utters when his toes stop curling. “Fuck,” again when he pulls his fingers from Jeno’s ass and slick drips down Jeno’s perineum, pooling against his balls and sliding filthy down his cock. Jeno moans, purrs faltering in the sensitivity as his hole puckers at the emptiness. “Fuck,” once more when Jeno blinks his pretty eyes open and waves his pretty tail, signaling the end of the race. 

“You’re so pretty,” Doyoung repeats, shifting around to grip Jeno’s hips and pull him upright. “Stretch your legs out for me, baby,” he murmurs, gentle and warm in Jeno’s ear, and Jeno complies, hissing at the tenseness in his knees. 

Doyoung reaches back for the glass of water and makes sure Jeno drinks every last drop before he starts massaging Jeno’s muscles, kissing down his neck and across his jaw and stroking occasionally at his tail as it wraps around his wrist. 

“The couch,” Jeno slurs, voice orgasm-deep and sleepy. His cock is still angry red after hours of being teased, ignored, and the weird stretch of the hole in his shorts against his ass makes him shift around as Doyoung smooths out the kinks in his thighs. “The cushions, oh my god, Taeyong-hyung will kill me.” 

Doyoung chuckles, deep in his chest, sending vibrations through Jeno’s body where they’re pressed tight together. “You’ll be fine, kitten. Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

Jeno nods, and manages to get his feet under himself. His legs are shaky and Doyoung grips his hand tightly as they walk to Doyoung’s room, but they make it. Doyoung helps him pull off his ruined shorts, wipes the slick from his thighs and the cum from his ass with a few spit-damp tissues, and then he collapses on Doyoung’s bed— _clean cotton_ —, curls up against a pillow with his tail tight around his waist, and falls promptly asleep, absolutely no thoughts of the night’s storm barring the gates of dreamland. 

Doyoung watches his breathing even out, a fond smile on his face, then turns back to the living room with a sigh. He wets a towel in the kitchen and dabs at the glistening white spots on the couch, to little avail.

 _Yeah, Taeyong’s gonna kill me,_ he thinks.

As he tucks himself around the gentle curve of Jeno’s body, pressing a kiss to his neck, he smiles. _Worth it._

**Author's Note:**

> mwah!!! 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/divinerenjun) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/divinerenjun)


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